Catalyst
by sydneysages
Summary: Even in death, she's the one he wants. MollyTeddy for Lowi. T for one bad word.


_For Lowi_

_I'm sorry, girl, that it's so late :( I completely forgot and got confused. And I thought you may be happy to know I used the first page in my Hogwarts, a history, covered notebook my friend got me from HP world!_

_**MollyTeddy**_

* * *

><p>She falls suddenly, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her body drops from a standing position to the floor. Her left side hits first, a painful cracking noise reverberating around the room as he turns to face her.<p>

His eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him, the sight of _his_ Molly, his _wife_, lying on the linoleum of their kitchen, entirely motionless.

Then he spots the pool of blood forming around her.

"Oh God, no," he whispers, his feet moving towards her without him consciously remembering to get them to. He begins to run across the room but it seems as if it's taking forever, each metre feeling like twenty as he tries to reach her. "Molly, please, come on baby, wake up," he moans, fixing his eyes on her, begging her to sit upright, to pretend it's only a joke.

It's not meant to be happening yet.

He never really accepted that she could ever die, that her illness she's had since she was a small child could affect her now – _especially_ now. The medication is supposed to stop things like this, make her body entirely normal, like the rest of her is.

But it's happening now, and as he reaches her, he falls to his knees. He can barely see her through the sea of tears streaming from his eyes, but he can feel her beneath his hands as he roughly shakes her shoulders, not caring about bruising her when she's like this. Why be bothered for a bruise when it could get her to wake up.

"Come on, Mol, come on," he urges her, closing his eyes as he shakes her, pleading with her silently to wake up. He casts the "enero" spell in his head dozens of times but it does nothing for her…and then his hand moves to hover lightly over her mouth.

Nothing there.

She _can't_ be…she can't be _dying_, he thinks, unable to think straight. Every second he wastes is a second which could be used to save his Molly, but every second seems to flash by before he can even begin to comprehend that this is very, _very _dangerous.

And it's very, _very_ real.

What seems like eons later, he knows he has to take her to St Mungos – if they can't help her, then nobody can. They even have a special bit which specialises in 'Muggle Medicine', with doctors who know about magic in there if people feel the Muggle way is better.

There's a maternity ward, an operating theatre (for those injured or ill in non-magical ways) and even ventilators – whatever they are – for the magical population if they want to try something new…something that could even be better.

He scoops Molly up into his arms and presses his lips down to her temple as he shuts his eyes and thinks of St Mungos. Within seconds, they are zooming through space, heading for the place which he can only hope will save her.

In his heart, he knows it's too late.

"Someone help me!" he cries as soon as he's in the waiting room, shoving less injured people out of the way as he tries to find a doctor, a Healer, _someone_ to help him with his Molly.

Blood begins to drip down his fingers in crimson rivulets as soon as she is removed from his arms by some weird looking man in a white coat, the one thing of her that is left clinging to him. Nobody gives him an explanation as to what's going on, simply point him to the waiting area for him to sit, no idea what's going on.

No idea if she's still alive or not.

_~x~_

The seconds turn into minutes, sixty minutes making an hour, and there is still no news. The blood has long since stopped running down his hands, now simply stained in, a glove to his skin that he can't bear to rub off – it's Molly through and through; he can't let her run down the sink.

He's not told any of his family or hers – though they're both the same, sort of – yet because he doesn't know what to say. After all, he knows _nothing_; how can he call them down here when all he can say is that she collapsed and that they took her away?

But maybe he should call them…he doesn't know.

"Mr Lupin?" a doctor – Muggle – calls his name in an irate voice and he jolts, realising that the figure has been standing in front of him for ages now…he only thought it was his imagination.

"Yes?" he stands up eagerly, his heart leaping at the thought that he can go see his Molly again, see the woman he loves…and the…but let's not go there.

"Could we have a word with you?" he gestures to another colleague in the distance, the face on him even grimmer than the one standing with him. But Teddy refuses to look at that, considering they may just have a poker face to try and make him think that – _they could be sardonic bastards_, he thinks without humour in his head.

.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Mr Lupin, but your wife has succumbed to what _should_ have killed her ten years ago," Doctor number one informs him gently as they stand outside a door, the contents of the room unknown. "We understand she is pregnant and for this reason we have placed her on a ventilator to breathe for her until we make the decision to deliver the baby," he continues, giving Teddy a piece of information he has been wondering about for a while – what the purpose of a ventilator is.

"So…so she's in there and _looks_ alive, but she's dead?" he confirms, a lump in his throat as tears begin to stream down his cheeks. She _can't_ be dead; he can't have lost his Molly forever and ever…but the baby alive?

When he saw Molly in such a state on the floor, one fleeting moment was spared for a baby that he thought would never make it through. She's only five months pregnant, he thinks, so how can a baby _that_ small live when it's mother can't? Not one minute since that one thought has he even contemplated the survival of the baby – his only thought has been Molly, the woman he can't live without.

She's the one who helped him after Victoire dumped him; she's the one who got him to apply at the big Quidditch teams and supported him when he got in.

He's the one who has always known that he wouldn't be able to live without her, that she is the driving force in their relationship, the catalyst in the reaction, the one who brings the dynamic spark to Teddy and Molly, the one who everyone loves.

And now she's dead.

"yes, that is correct," one of the doctors looks slightly uncomfortable before continuing. "Mr Lupin, we require your permission to deliver the baby now, since it is now old enough to survive without Molly. Do you give this permission?"

He looks stunned, unable to accept this. He's losing his wife but gaining a child within minutes of one another – and nobody knows. He didn't tell anyone that Molly's in hospital, that she collapsed, and now he's alone whilst making the decision to change his life forever.

Maybe the baby will be a clone of Molly, he thinks, maybe he or she will be the one with Molly's driving force, the one that gets him through life again.

"Do it," he whispers. "But I want to see her again first."

_~x~_

Someone else calls the rest of the Weasleys in and soon the place is packed, waiting for Teddy to finish his goodbye before they give theirs and then the new Weasley shall be born.

He sits in the quiet room with Molly, looking at her unblemished face, the long blonde hair flowing loose over the pillow as she looks like an angel. He knows she's in somewhere better for her, that she'll never leave him _really_ – after all, she'll always be in his heart.

"Bye, Mol," are the only words that he can muster as the tears block his sight of her once again.

He stands up and walks to the door, hearing the rising and falling of her chest but knowing that it's not really her.

She's gone.

_~x~_

He holds the baby girl in his arms and cries – she's the spitting image of her mother. He can remember the day when he held baby Molly for the first time in his arms and it's the strangest sense of deja-vu for him, but in an almost good way.

Molly the second is gone now, gone to the morgue to be buried in a few days time – when her parents have arranged the funeral.

But Molly the third is in his arms…and he's never letting her go.

* * *

><p><em>Goodbad?_

_Let me know either way._

_Don't fav without reviewing please and thank you._

_Vicky xx_


End file.
